UST to the Max
by Pomodoro Crisi
Summary: So much unresolved sexual tension, so little time. Part 8: "Je souhaite pour l'Angleterre de devenir mon ami une fois de plus."
1. Part 1: SpainRomano

**Uhm...I honestly don't have an explanation at the moment....**

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Unresolved Sexual Tension to the Max!

Part 1: Spain and Romano

Lovino Vargas was not frustrated. He was the leader of the damn Italian mafia, he'd been alive for centuries, if not longer, he did not get frustrated. Especially with oblivious, Spanish bastards who couldn't read the atmosphere to save their life despite having raised him. So no, he was not frustrated, he was royally ticked the fuck off. The fact that it was over the Spaniard's inability to notice when his tantrums - no, not tantrums, rages, much more manly sounding - meant he wanted the idiot to take him on the damn kitchen floor and not take the blasted pot of sauce from him and spend five minutes driving him mad by gently brushing the spilt sauce from every inch of his body in no way pointed to what Francis, and probably Kiku as well if placed in a room with Elizaveta, would call sexual frustration. No, he was just mad he'd had to wash his bathroom wall and take a cold shower while Antonio cleaned pasta sauce from the floor while praying nothing of his…problem had caught the man's attention.

And why didn't he want him to notice? Because of three things: 1) Antonio and himself were both very big on Catholicism and regardless of the fact that men could marry each other in Spain, Lovino refused to mention his attraction for fear of being burned at the cross - figuratively speaking, of course - and excommunicated. He could just picture his boss' rage if he found out.

2) Antonio had had far too many relationships in the past that he was 'serious' about and every last one had ended rather violently. Though everyone remained on good terms, the scars were visible and Lovino refused to simply be a chapter of Antonio's historical loves. Besides, he didn't want Spain, he wanted Antonio.

3) Antonio clearly loved Feliciano far more than he loved him, and who would he be to think that he was better than Feliciano at anything? He'd thought so for centuries, Feliciano was far superior to him in everything from cooking to flirting with girls and no matter what he did, he would be left in his little brother's shadow forever. Everyone loved him more, including Antonio, so why bother trying anymore? That was his whole excuse for being lazy all his life.

Alright, so maybe if he told Antonio these things they would be cleared up, but damn it, he needed to have him notice he loved him first - however much he tried to deny it. Really, if he could show him and have him reciprocate even with all those things against him, wouldn't that mean they were meant to be? Que sera sera - as much as he hated to quote that French pervert. But… Damn it, he was too confused to think anymore. He just wanted to run downstairs and shove that gorgeous idiot against the wall and…and…tell him exactly how he felt without blushing too hard. Yeah, that was it. Nothing at all to do with vital regions…and tongues…and damn it all, who the hell said that cold showers fixed these kinds of problems anyway? The should be shot for lying to him, damn it.

"Lovi! All the pasta's cleaned up! Come down and have some of the paella I brought over!" Antonio called from the outside the door, finally using some sense and not just barging in like usual. Actually, if he had come in, Lovino's life would be far easier and he could just pull him in the shower and… God damn, he was turning in to Francis!

Alright, breath. In. Out. In. Out. There, nothing to worry about… Except the growing problem around his waist and the thought of Antonio's amazing food waiting for him along with Antonio himself.

"Lovi? Are you alright?" Antonio jiggled the doorknob as Lovino thanked all heavenly beings he had had the foresight to lock the damn door.

"Yeah, bastard! Just go the fuck away already!" Truthfully, he didn't kno if he was telling Antonio to go away or the thoughts of how good Antonio looked with his hair wet and water dripping from his… Damn it, he needed counseling or something, this was getting ridiculous.

"Are you sure, Lovi? You sound like you're in pain…"

"No, bastard! Just go! I-I'll b-be down in a minute!" Damn it all, he 'd stuttered. Now the idiot would stand out there and laugh because he would know all the awful things his former protectorate was doing. God, someone just kill him now.

"Alright, but hurry up Lovi~! I don't want the food to get cold. I made it special, just for you!" Antonio's footsteps faded as he left. Lovino slid down the side of the shower, the water still running cold as it hit his knees. Oh dear god, he was going to hell for this.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Antonio had never been big on planning, but he took special care with this. Oh yeah, he acted dense as humanly possible, but there were things that just clicked for him. Like Lovino. Everything the man said and did was instantaneously understood by him for what he really meant. 'No, tomato bastard, I don't ever want to see your paella again' meant 'Please, Antonio, make me pots and pots of paella everyday until I burst.' 'Get the fuck away from me' was 'Damn it, I need to be hugged as tight as possible or I'm gonna start crying.' And 'I fucking hate you!' really was Lovi's way of saying 'I love you more than anything!' But where was the fun in telling him that? Far better to wait until Lovino burst with frustration and turned that beautiful red color that reminded him of their favorite food.

Oh, he knew exactly how Lovino felt for him, he just wanted to hear the Italian say it. Really, how much could he be expected to do to prove any of the reasons Lovino had for not telling him were dead wrong? He knew them all, Feliciano had told him years ago after hearing his brother rant over it all when he thought he was alone. He didn't give a damn if Lovino was excommunicated for being in love with him. Hell, he didn't care if he got kicked out of every church in the world for being with another man. It didn't matter to him if people thought they were sinning, he just wanted to be able to call Lovino his - not that he didn't already, but it would be nice if Lovino agreed to it; though he hadn't truly denied it yet. Then there was the idea that his feelings were fleeting at best and would end similarly to his relationships with Roderich or Arthur or Belgium. But that was ages ago and he had learnt something from those relationships, which might shock Lovino to his core simply because the oblivious Antonio had learnt something useful. Actually, it was probably the single most important thing he would ever learn. He learned to distinguish between the feelings of his nation and his humanity. Sure, after everyone else figured it out it was no big deal, but at the time he was thrilled. Plus his feelings started to form for Lovino and not just Romano. And as far as Feliciano went, the only reason he had spent so much time with him recently was to help him get together with Ludwig. It had been a long, and rather annoying, experience for everyone, but it had turned out fine in the end. Well, for Feliciano it did. Lovino seemed to find it as a sign that Antonio preferred the younger Italian, a ridiculous notion in itself since Feliciano was so…pliable. There was no fun in it if he couldn't be at least a little rough here and there. He had been a conquistador, you know, that instinct was kind of a challenge to repress sometimes. Lovino was probably the only once, human or nation, that could give back more force than he got, if his tantrums were anything to go on.

But damn, Lovi took far too long to notice these things! If he didn't try something, anything, he would end up taking the poor guy during lunch at a world meeting or something. Not that he would receive any complaints before, but after he would more than likely be given the cold shoulder for several weeks.

Of course, how could Lovino resist the temptation when he had 'accidentally' left a tomato on the floor so the Italian would stumble and spill sauce on himself? And then he had had to help his darling Lovi get the sauce cleaned up when it just so happened to fall on very sensitive areas. And how could he not notice the look in the man's eyes that clearly said "Antonio, I demand you pound the living daylights out of me until I can't even see straight?" Oh he'd planned this all out perfectly, including the part where he left Lovino alone and frustrated in the bathroom so by the time he came down he'd be so upset that he'd have to do something. And to make Lovi fell better - as well as save his own skin - Lovino would think the entire thing was his own fault and have no excuse but to go along with it. No it was not mean, he was just helping his friend open up a little. Really, Lovi with pent up frustration of any kind was not good news to someone on the wrong side of the mafia. Honestly, last month they'd found someone who had been force-fed a Molotov Cocktail. Not a pretty death.

Feet began to stamp down the stairs, followed by a fantastically multilingual array of curses that threatened to out do the stomping. Perfect timing. He had just finished setting the paella on the table.

"Hey Lovi~! How was you-"

Antonio froze as he was shoved violently against the table, his back to the Italian and a pair of arms on either side of his body simply to keep him trapped, as if he wanted to move. He turned slowly, eyes meeting the olive green he adored - he still had to look down just a bit but the glare he received made the odd crick in neck worth it. The fingers on the table twitched, as did the rest of Lovino's arms, and his face turned a light pink. Antonio repressed a chuckle; even when trying to be menacing, Lovino could not stop being adorable.

"Yes Lovi? How may I help you?" Antonio smiled his brightest, knowing the oldest Italian twin would only be more forceful if he thought he had no idea what was going on. And right on cue, that pink turned bright red, puffing his cheeks up and making those olive eyes that small fraction brighter even as their pupils dilated. "Lovi~! You look just like a toma-"

"Just shut up for five seconds, tomato bastard." And he made certain Antonio remained quiet.

Of course, Lovino made enough noise for the both of them, growling curses in between searing kisses that left him panting. Antonio's hands found their way to Lovino's waist as Lovino's left the table to tangle themselves in unruly brown locks. He let out a small squeak when Antonio suddenly pushed him against the wall separating the kitchen from the dining area, Antonio laughing against the Italian's lips at the sound. Lovino growled again and pushed him back against the table, though somewhere along the two feet between the wall and the table Antonio managed to push both plates to the floor and turn them so he was pinning Lovino to the table.

He let his lips leave the Italian's for a moment, only to reach up and bite gently on that one odd curl that refused to blend with the rest of Lovino's auburn hair. Lovino clenched his eyes shut, tightening his grip on the man's hair as he pulled him back down to kiss him fiercely. He moved them up the table slowly, so their legs eventually tangled together where the plates had once been. Though they didn't stay there for long as Lovino flipped them once again and brought his knees to rest somewhere near Antonio's chest as he sat just above his ah…vital regions.

"B-Bastard…" he breathed out, resting his head on the Spaniard's shoulder, "you wasted...the paella…"

Antonio couldn't help himself, he laughed. Of course only Lovino could be worried about food when they were seconds from doing things that would get them killed by Sweden if Sealand saw them. Someone needed to reorganize the man's priorities, though the idea of food at the moment seemed intriguing. He had made it special for his Lovi, after all.

"The hell are you smirking at, bastard?" Lovino's red face came into his field of vision and Antonio beamed at him.

"You'll see when we get upstairs, Lovi~!"

And with that, Antonio rolled them off the table, grabbed Lovino's hand and the pot of nearly forgotten paella and dragged him upstairs.

Everything according to plan.

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**Yes...I felt the need to do this last night... I think my Francis side was having a bit too much fun... Anyway! I'm going to make this a series! I might not update as much as everything else, which is getting hard since I get like five new ideas a day dammit, but I'll allow suggestions for pairings! **

**I'm already planning on:**

**AustriaxHungary**

**AustriaxPrussia**

**AustriaxSwitzerland**

**PrussiaxCanada**

**AmericaxEngland**

**AmericaxJapan**

**EnglandxFrance**

**FancexSpain**

**PrussiaxSpain**

**GermanyxItaly**

**Itacest (I just have to...)**

**LithuaniaxPoland**

**RussiaxChina**

**KoreaxChina**

**GreecexJapan**

**TurkeyxGreece**

**Anything else you want, just tell me in a review!**

**Reviews=Love! and a picture of my new Prussia plushie!!!! (yes, you all needed to know)  
**


	2. Part 2: PrussiaCanada

**Alright, because I love the reviews so much and I had this idea stuck in my head, here's part 2~! And yeah, Gil's part is really spacey cause he's high as a kite. I have no idea what being high is like, so forgive me if I messed it up horribly.**

**Enjoy! And thank you so much to everyone who altered and reviewed so far! I love You!  
**

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Unresolved Sexual Tension to the Max!

Part 2: PrussiaCanada

Prussia, the most awesome kingdom to ever exist was bored. Something awesome kingdoms should never be. Especially awesome kingdoms that had been kicked out of their little brother's house and were now rooming with their extremely adorable and fussy best friend. Not that said best friend was even around at the moment, hence the boredom. He had gone out to some stuffy meeting or another - wearing a boring suit that Gilbert refused to admit looked stunning on him, particularly the red tie - and then to the store because they needed beer - or rather, Matthew needed beer since Gilbert refused to drink the water infused with hops that was the country's excuse for an alcoholic beverage - and maple syrup, as if the seven gallons in the pantry would not last them a few weeks. Alright, so it would suffice for a week…maybe…if he cut back…a lot. No, he did not have a problem, thank you very much, maple syrup was just awesome and as an awesome kingdom it was his duty to consume as much as possible. Besides, all Canadian syrups were awesome… Wow, that sounded vaguely France-like…

Not that he could deny wanting to get into the shy blonde's bed, but he needed tact with this guy. He couldn't just reach over, say he wanted to be inside him and expect the flushing boy to lead the way to his bedroom. And even if he could, it would be sleazy and just wrong with someone like Matthew. Or maybe it was just Matthew since the last time he had given a second thought to something like this was when he was trying to get Elizaveta from Roddy. Alright, so he was in…he _liked_ Matthew, so sue him. It wasn't like it was all that hard to do. Just take a quick glance at the kid and BAM, instant attraction. That is, if someone didn't confuse him for his moron of a brother, who was one of the many obstacles in his way. As if that little twerp could compete with his awesomeness anyway. It was just…he was just a tiny bit stronger and…maybe frightened him a bit with all the weapons and what not. But only a little! He was far too awesome the be terrified of the hamburger munching moron. Now Ivan, he was someone to be terrified of. He had been over seven times in the last three weeks and each time he made a more inappropriate pass at Matthew than the next. Matthew had turned the psycho down, thank God, but the look Ivan would throw Gilbert's way as he was leaving…it was enough to make him feel sorry for the Baltics living so close to him. What if Matthew was just playing hard to get with him? Together they would make the biggest country ever to exist after all. It was a tempting offer, even with the issue of Ivan's sister and the lead pipe and all that. Gott, he needed serious help if he was going to get Matthew to acknowledge that he wanted more than friendship.

And food, he needed food. Why food? Food made everything better, that's why.

With Matthew gone, and with specific instructions NOT to cook anything by himself, Gilbert had no choice but to sneak a few - or an entire jar - of Mattew's special maple cookies. So what if they were in a jar labeled 'DO NOT TOUCH?' He was awesome and labels were more of a suggested response to something rather than a demand. Of course, only awesome people knew about it.

Gilbert grabbed the bear shaped cookie jar - so cute! - and flopped back on the couch he was using as a bed - the guest room had been destroyed by a drunk Arthur getting into a fight with a very angry kumajiro and was still under repair, while Matthew outright refused to share a bed that was part of something called 'the Bad Touch Trio.' he nibbled slowly on the cookies, wondering why they would be so off limits to him when they truly did not taste all that great, more of a plant taste than sugar and syrup. Though after the first one was gone they started to taste much better and after a while he felt as if everything would turn out perfect, if only he ate a few more cookies. Problems with Mattie? No big deal! He was the most awesome person around, relationship problems meant nothing to him. But damn, he was really getting bored again. Oh! He should celebrate! With more cookies! And soap operas! Tonio's soap operas, since they were the best there were.

After finishing half the jar, Gilbert's feelings had gone down the tube. He felt about as hopeless as Rafaela when Gerardo left her for that psycho Ricardo. Though maybe not quite as bad since Rafaela had committed suicide, but that was only because he wasn't stupid enough to try; like anything would happen anyway. Damn humans, always had the easy way out. Maybe he was more along the lines of Ricardo, before Gerardo left Rafaela. He had veritably stalked the guy as if his life depended on having a picture of him at all possible places with him at one time. Couldn't living with Matthew be classified as the same thing? Plus there were all those pictures he had taken for his blog…but Matthew had agreed to those so it wasn't as if he was Natalia or something. And Ricardo had thought of killing Rafaela with a damn axe, he wasn't as crazy to attempt something like that with Ivan. Even if he wasn't huge, there was that pipe again and Natalia to worry about… Not that he would ever try to kill someone with an axe. It was far too messy, swords were better, cleaner. Antonio, now he liked axes. Maybe that was why he had put that in there. There had been that fight with Turkey over Romano when they were younger. And that meeting last month. Come to think of it, how did he manage to sneak that thing in without anyone seeing it? It was bigger than he was, for crying out loud. Though Vash had brought in some pretty big guns before, so the phenomenon wasn't entirely too foreign to them.

And why the hell were Tonio's soaps so sad anyway? He tried not to, but when Gerardo told Rafaela's corpse how sorry he was and Ricardo started crying and explaining his whole jealousy thing to someone he was sure couldn't hear him, he started crying for the poor girl as well. He would have to call Antonio later and complain, crying was so not awesome. And he'd made him finish all the cookies too. Though…they had done a fantastic job of making him feel better. He Didn't even flinch when Gerardo started bawling as they lowered Rafaela's coffin into the ground. He had figured it all out. The perfect way to get little Mattie to admit he was in love with him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Matthew was exhausted by the time he got home. The meeting has run late because Alfred refused to show up on time. Then the only market that sold the brand of syrup he liked was out and he'd had to settle for something different. And, if only to make things better, Arthur had shown up drunk and thought he was his brother. It had taken half an hour to convince him the person he was molesting was not Alfred and another hour to convince the real Alfred that his little brother was not trying to steal his boyfriend. He shuddered remembering the things Arthur had wanted to do with him. He never imagined Arthur to be that flexible, but if Arthur said he could do it… Just gross, not what he wanted to think about right now. Or ever, for that matter. Oh, he was going to have nightmares later, he just knew it.

"Gil? I'm home." Matthew stepped into his house, placing his keys on the table and his coat and suit jacket on rack. As annoying as his friend could be, it was nice to have him around, he got lonely being alone all the time. Though Gilbert had a tendency to show up unannounced and ask for pancakes, it was just better to have someone around longer than a few hours. Even if he had asked to share his bed so many times he felt sure his face was going to burn off. Not that it was a bad idea or anything; it would just be somewhere to sleep for the silver haired man, but he would probably end up cuddling him in his sleep. Not something he wanted his friend to become privy to. The dreams were more than enough, thank you very much. Plus the questions when Gilbert woke up to find his supposed to be best friend wrapped around him would be a nightmare all on their own. How could he tell his best friend, the only one who didn't confuse him for his brother, the he was head-over-heels in love with him and wanted nothing more than to spend hours on end doing the exact things Arthur had wanted to do with Alfred with him? Apart from coming outright and saying it, of course, because that was far too embarrassing and easily shout down.

"Gil? You still alive?" He winced at the poor choice of words as the image of Gilbert lying in a coffin flashed through his mind. Not that that would ever happen. Nations more…evaporated than died. There'd be no body left to bury.

A strange high-pitched giggle came from his living room. Well, that was…odd. Gilbert didn't giggle, ever, his laugh was more of a guffaw than a giggle. A girl then? Italy? He certainly giggled more than necessary for a guy. Well, other than Feliks, but this was still to high to be a male, feminine or not. Maple, what did he do if Gilbert was…_getting busy_ with some girl in his house? He couldn't kick him out, he had no where to go, but he couldn't exactly stay here and let him…invade some unknowing human. He didn't know much about what happened to a human who had sex with a nation, but it certainly couldn't be pretty from the looks Arthur gave Francis every time he started speaking about some past exploit.

There was more giggling and a string of Spanish - or was it Italian? - words that may or may not have been a sentence, the giggles cut out words here and there. Oh dear God, Antonio wasn't here too, was he? They couldn't both be seducing a girl in his house. Wasn't Antonio with Romano? He didn't want to get in the middle of that fight if he ever found out. _Merde_, he was dead. The entire Italian mafia would be up his ass for this. He couldn't handle this. Not today, not with Gilbert.

He puffed out his chest as Alfred usually did when he wanted attention and marched into the living room, determined to get both Antonio and whatever girl had found her way into his house out. After…well he had no idea what he would do after but he would figure it out once he made sure he wouldn't need to reupholster his couch.

"Gilbert, what the hell are you…?"

His chest deflated with a sigh of relief, only to puff back up with his laughter as he took in his friend. Gilbert was sitting on the couch, eyes bright with laughter, _giggling_ as he twirled Kumajiro around in circles before letting him go and watching as the poor bear tried to run away and ultimately skidding headfirst into the wall with Gilbird only a few seconds behind him. Though the bird landed on the bears head instead of colliding with the wall. The Spanish was coming from the television, some commercial or game show or something involving a bull and a goat. From the way the women were dressed, though, he was glad he didn't understand the language. Gilbert seemed to love it though and giggled louder.

"Gil…what the heck did you do to yourself?" Matthew managed through his laughter.

The Prussian looked at him as if seeing him for the first time, he blinked curiously before recognizing the man in front of him, his eyes immediately brightened and he shot from the couch, a bit unsteadily, to wrap his friend in a bone crushing hug.

"Mattie! I missed you so much! Where have you been? You know you shouldn't worry me like that. Oh! I thought of a fun game we need to play!" Gilbert removed his arms from crushing Matthew's torso to fling them around the blonde's neck and drag him to the couch, somehow shutting off the television on the way.

"G-Gil, are you alight?" He was acting like Feliciano and, quite frankly, it was frightening. He couldn't remember being afraid of Gilbert before, but this was certainly something new.

"I'm fantabulous! I ate all these cookies and watched soaps that Tonio made. Oh! And that talking pillow ran into the wall a lot, but the yellow M&M is being controlled by my awesomeness and only flew around." Gilbert smiled as if he announced they had just won the Nobel Peace Prize.

"Exactly which cookies did you eat?"

"The ones in the jar shaped like the talking pillow."

Oh for the love of maple leaves. "Gil, those were made special for me! You can't have eaten them all."

"Of course I did. You were out and I was hungry, what did you expect me to do, starve?" Matthew opened his mouth to explain what a 'do not touch' label meant, but was quickly cut off by a finger covering his lips and Gilbert giggling again. "We're gonna play the question game, 'kay?"

"What? No, Gil, you need to just - "

"What's you favorite color?"

What was this, Monty Python? "Red, Gil. Now can you stop?"

"Nope! Now ask a different question."

"Matthew sighed. "Favorite brand of cereal?"

"Cap'n Crunch! It reminds me of Artie when he was younger, but without the mustache and with a way better accent. Favorite thing to do?"

"Read. Favorite thing not to do?" Might as well play along until he got bored.

"Clean! Favorite thing…to watch?"

"Hockey. Favorite thing to wear?"

"My awesome boots!" He wiggled his feet happily. "Favorite thing not to wear?"

Matthew pulled his knees up to his chest. "Girl's clothes." He shuddered remembering the time Francis had him play dress up with Seychelles. "Favorite flavor of ice cream?"

"Death by Chocolate. Favorite gum?"

And the inane questions continued, ranging from favorite brand of toothpaste to favorite flower before Gilbert declared they move on to scenarios

"Jack off and elephant or kill Russia?"

Oh maple, how the hell did he think of something like that? "Jack of an elephant, I guess." Matthew turned bright red. "Um… Kiss Natalia or marry Ivan?"

"Ouch Mattie, you want me to die?" Gilbert placed his hand over his heart in mock agony.

"It's not that bad, is it?"

"She'd kill me if I got within ten meters of her and she'd mutilate me if I even mentioned marriage to Ivan."

"Just pick, it's not as if you have to do it."

"Don't miss me too much, Mattie. I'd kiss the psycho bitch, much better than being raped by that vodka-loving maniac." Gilbert smirked causing Matthew to clutch his legs just a bit tighter to his body. "Kiss me or fuck me?"

"Eh?" Matthew paled, only to grow red again. "W-Why would you ask that?"

"Because you're cute when you blush, now answer. "Uh…um…I-I'd…fu-fuck you…" Matthew immediately buried his face in his knees, waiting for the obvious rejection.

"Boo boo! Wrong answer Mattie!"

"E-Eh?" He knew it was coming but it hadn't sounded quite like this in him mind. Wasn't it supposed to be more angry and insulting? Though the cookies may have something to do with it.

"I said 'wrong answer.'" When had Gilbert gotten so close? And why was he looking at him like that? He wasn't going to… No, he wouldn't do that! He didn't think of him that way at all! "_You _will not be fucking _me_…" Well, thank you, just rub it in why don't you. "_I _will be fucking _you."_

Oh dear God, he did not just say that. And that fucking _voice_, it sounded like he was _purring._

"So, what do you say Mattie? Kiss me or fuck me?"

Oh God, did he have to be this close? He could feel his hair on his nose and those eyes were right in front of him and he couldn't breath anymore.

"Um…um…Ki-kiss yo-you?" Was his voice always this high? And what was that hand doing on his legs? Oh maple, he was sitting in between his legs. He was on Gilbert's lap, is legs on either side of his body and that smirk…it was right against his lips. He could feel it, feel his lips brush against his when he spoke, feel the shivers travel down his spine.

"Perfect."

And that oh so tantalizing distance was gone and Matthew's mind seemed to disappear with it, or at leas the rational part did. What part was left seemed perfectly happy with the situation. It moved Matthew's hands to Gilbert's shoulders, clenching the collar of his shirt between his fingers and pulling him closer. Gilbert's hands found their way to his waist, slowly slipping into the dress pants that were now far too tight for Matthew's liking. And shirt, it just got in the way.

Gilbert untucked the shirt, quickly moving to undo the red tie around Matthew's neck. His hands halted long enough to drop the tie to the floor, where Gilbird picked it up and flew slightly lopsidedly away with it, before reaching to unbutton his dress shirt. Matthew pulled away as far as his new mind would allow - basically all of four centimeters - and caught his breath.

"G-Gil…you…you're h-high…we can't - "

"Shh…" Gilbert pecked his nose lightly. "I'm not high, or drunk, or on anything weird, at least not now."

"Then…then wh-why…?"

"Because… Verdammt, don't make me say it. So not awesome…"

"Eh?"

Gilbert growled, leaning forward to bite on Matthew's ear gently, earning a shiver as he breathed along the shell of it.

"J'capote su' toe'."

Matthew smiled, biting his lip to keep from laughing and instead bringing Gilbert back to kiss him again. Though it only lasted for a few moments before he was being carried upstairs and entirely forgetting the rational part of his brain as it joined the new half in encouraging Gilbert to move faster.

* * *

**Translation: Merde: Shit (French)**

** Verdammt: Damn (German)**

** J'capote su' toe': I'm upside down for you. Basically I love you. (Canadian French - or so says a website I found...)**

** Someone tell me if I messed any of those up, please!  
**

**Huzzah! So happy this is done! Not happy I have to go back to school tomorrow, but that just gives me more free time to write while I pretend to take notes... I'm a bad student XD**

**There was more I wanted to put in this, a morning after thing that had to do with the cookies (which had pot in them in case someone didn't get it), but I totally forgot by the time I got to the end... Once I remember though, it will be put in here. Hopefully that will be tomorrow...**


	3. Part 3: RussiaChina

**I'm having way to much fun with this...**

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Unresolved Sexual Tension to the Max!

Part 3: RussiaChina

Propriety. Pride. They were stifling things that needed to be cut down and disposed of in certain situations. Such as when your Russian - and significantly larger - companion asks you if you love him. Unfortunately for Yao, four thousand years had taken their toll on his ability to forgo pride and propriety. He tried to think of an answer that would satisfy the larger man and came up blank. What could he say to and overgrown child that would qualify as a decent answer as well and keep him from showing such a distasteful face in front of his other allies; because why would Ivan wait to ask such a question? That would require patience which it seemed the man did not possess.

Yao sighed tiredly, sealing hi fate with his next words. He could make it up to Ivan later…if he survived anyway.

"No, I do not love Russia, aru." He made sure to keep his voice cold as steel and equally as solid. It would not do to show emotion at a time like this. Besides, he was certainly not lying. Not to anyone. He did not love Russia. He admired the large nation, the power it had once held and continued to strive for, but he in no way loved him. It would be scandalous, for lack of a better word, for China to love Russia. The world may very well collapse if such a thing were to happen.

Ivan was quiet as he turned his eyes to the floor and exited the small room the Allies were using for their meeting. A collective whisper followed him out, as if he wouldn't hear the worried tones. Everyone knew of Ivan's affection for Yao, he never once tried to hide it, but no one had ever seen him leave after a rejection. Normally he would simply smile and say that they would be one soon, to which Yao always rolled his eyes. He would never be one with Russia. This…it was actually frightening. So much so that Alfred called the meeting to a close once the whispers ceased and all eyes traveled to something other than a very tense Yao whose cheeks flushed with the attention. If anyone should be worried, it was not his allies. They scattered off in a tight group, though Arthur looked displeased at being stuck with Francis longer than necessary, leaving Yao to what he assumed would be his demise.

It never came. The only thing he achieved in his seven hour vigil - yes, he had waited that long; Ivan would be upset if he'd had to go looking for his southern neighbor - was driving himself insane with all the times with Ivan he managed to remember. From their very first meeting to the first time he had visited after Yao and Im Young Soo had created Shinatty. The look in his violet eyes as he observed Yao clinging to the large stuffed cat was one of immense amusement and greed.

"_What is Yao doing, da?" Ivan eyed the Chinese warily, as if afraid for his neighbor's sanity. And who wouldn't be afraid if they walked into the normally very proper man's house to see him asleep on a couch with a large cat toy clutched to his chest? They would be curious enough to wake the man and question him apparently, but the Russian still had a very nervous look on his face. It was amusing, to say the least. _

"_Ah, Ivan. How are you, aru? Did you need something?" Yao rubbed his amber eyes sleepily, still clutching the cat to him. Ivan noticed that the only thing he wore was an over-sized tee-shirt and blushed slightly as it rode up Yao's pale thighs._

"_What is Yao holding?" he asked, covering part of his face with his scarf under the pretense of examining it for loose threads to hide the pink tint rising in his cheeks._

"_Hmm? Oh! You mean Shinatty, aru! Isn't it cute? I just created it, aru!"_

_Yao held up the doll, its head flopping slightly as it was jerked around._

"_Da, it is very…cute. Why is Yao Yao sleeping with it? Is Yao Yao using Shinatty as a replacement for Ivan, da?" Amusement flashed in his eyes as Yao's cheeks burned red. There was a certain…possessiveness in them as well, though Ivan tried to mask it. _

"_No, aru. It is…I just wanted to sleep with it, aru. Because it is so cute." Yao nodded as if that clarified everything. It would have, too, if the person in front of him were not Ivan. _

"_Ivan is cute too, da? Yao Yao sleep with Ivan too?" The large man pulled a sad face out and slapped it over his features, his violet eyes being the only thing that did not look saddened. The same amusement and possession remained. _

"_A-Aru?"_

_Ivan picked up Shinatty and placed it gently in the floor before removing his heavy coat and hanging it over the back of the couch._

"_Yao shy, da. Ivan understands though." Ivan climbed on to the couch, pulling a now fussing Yao against his chest and burying his face in the black hair that was free of it's usual pony tail. "Ivan very tired. Yao should go back to sleep as well, da?"_

Yao shivered at the memory. It had been impossible to sleep after that, what with Ivan shifting often as the couch was a bit small for his large frame and his heart beating out of control. It had been annoying the next morning when he kept falling asleep, but the night itself had been…pleasant. He had enjoyed being held by Ivan. He was a childish man and could be absolutely terrifying if he wanted, but he had moments that made up for some of his less brutal actions. Which was why Yao was worried that he hadn't shown up yet.

It was very likely that he may just have the tiniest bit of feelings for him other than allies, he was just too prideful to say it. What would everyone else say? What would Kiku and Im Young Soo say? Would Belarus try to kill him? There were just too many obstacles in his way.

Sighing, Yao got up and left the meeting room, silently shutting the door behind him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was well past midnight by the time he returned home. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and curl up with Shinatty, but he needed to attempt to call Ivan first. If he hadn't shown up when he walked home alone in the dark, something had to be wrong. Even when mad, Ivan always walked him home if it was late. The fact that he hadn't…it was not a good sign.

The phone rang several times before Toris' soft voice came over the line.

"Hello Yao. Is everything alright?" It was nice not to hear a stutter in the boy's voice for once; usually it he shook so hard it was almost impossible to understand him. "Do you need me to send over clothes for Mr. Ivan?"

Ah that explained it then. Ivan wasn't…wait a second.

"Eh? Ivan isn't home, aru?"

"Well, no. Should he be?" Toris sounded apprehensive, as if it was his fault.

"Yes, aru. He left the meeting early. That was hours ago, aru. I thought he would be home by now…" He tried not to let the disappointment slip into his voice. He must have failed though, as Toris' worried voice came through the speakers in a comforting manner.

"Would you like me to call when he gets in? I'm sure he'd want to talk to you if he knew that you called."

"No, it's okay. Thank you Toris, aru."

"Don't worry Yao, he'll probably be over at your place soon. He's always talking about you."

"I know, aru. See you at the next summit, aru."

"Yes, see you soon."

Yao hung up, feeling the disappointment in his chest slowly turn to fear. Not for Ivan's safety, mind you, it would be useless to worry about such things, but for his well being. The two sounded similar, but they really weren't. He was worried if Ivan was inside, it was winter and even could get cold sometimes, if he had eaten or if he had been drowning himself in vodka again.

`Sighing dejectedly, Yao changed and crawled into bed, pulling what he thought was Shinatty to him. At least, he thought it was until he moved.

"I-Ivan, aru?" It couldn't have been anyone else, even if he hadn't felt the scarf wrapped around the person's neck, but he felt the need to ask anyway.

"Da, Jao, it is me." He breathed a sigh of relief only to gasp as Ivan disentangled himself from the covers and started to leave.

"Where are you going, aru?"

"Home. I came to say goodbye, da. Jao took so long getting home, I fell asleep. I leave now, da." He walked into the hall, head hung low.

"Aru? Ivan, wait!" He nearly tripped following the Russian.

Ivan continued walking as if he hadn't heard Yao, twisting the doorknob ever so slowly. Yao plowed straight into his back, wrapping his arms as well as he could around the man's waist. He ended up gripping onto the sides of his coat to hang on.

"Please aru. Don't leave."

"Jao says that he does not love Russia, da? Why would Jao want Russia to stay if he does not love him?"

"I don't love Russia, aru! I love…" He couldn't say it. The only thing he needed to say and he couldn't say it.

"If Yao doesn't love Russia, he will be leaving. Please Yao, take care of yourself, da?"

This entire situation was wrong. Ivan should not be leaving and he should not be acting as if they were never going to see each other again. They would, if he had anything to say about it, he'd sit outside his house if he had to, because while he did not love Russia, he most certainly did love Ivan. So why couldn't he say that?

Ivan went to leave again, causing Yao to lose his grip on the thick coat. mustering all his strength, he gripped the coat again, pulling him back this time.

"Yao - "

"I don't love Russia, I love Ivan, aru." Yao mumbled into the fabric he had buried his face in. He felt Ivan stiffen and large fingers pry his loose from the coat. he didn't move any further but he didn't speak either. He simply stood there, head hung low, barely breathing.

"Ivan?"

Yao walked around to stand in front of Ivan, staring up at him in the hopes of seeing something useful on his face. He expected a smile or a maybe something akin to anger to be there, he had made a mistake in Ivan's book after all, but he was greeted with a hung head and a single tear rolling down the Russian's plump cheek. It was a cliché moment, to say the least, but it was sweet on the man. Like a small child crying because you had given him a new toy. It made him want to laugh at the silliness . It was just so…adorable.

Yao smiled sweetly at the man. "Ivan, aru?" He looked down at Yao, violet eyes lighter with unshed tears.

"Da, Yao?"

"You're silly, aru." And Yao gave up on propriety and pride and pulled on Ivan's coat to bring their lips together lightly. It was nothing fancy or anything that would catch Francis' attention, but it fit the two of them perfectly.

Ivan smiled against his lips, reaching back to thread his fingers through Yao's hair, releasing it from it's loose tie. They pulled apart slowly, enjoy the contact. Yao shivered, Ivan's fingers brushing the nape of his neck.

"Jao cold, da?" Time to go inside and play!" He lifted Yao, carrying him bridal style to the bedroom, kicking the door shut as he went. Yao kicked and screamed about indecency and cruelty - though it was obviously useless - until he was placed carefully on the bed.

"Ivan what are you doing, aru?" He crossed his arms over his chest, sitting cross legged on the bed, forgetting he was only in his night shirt. Ivan followed the movement of his legs eagerly.

"Playing a game with Jao, da!" Ivan crawled over the Chinese man, having removed his coat and boots, and effectively pinned him to the bed.

Yao stared up at him, trying not to gulp as Ivan pressed him farther into the soft mattress. "What kind of game, aru?" he asked suspiciously.

"The fun kind!" Ivan leant down, placing a soft kiss to the pale column of Yao's neck and earning another shiver. "Jao is very sensitive, da." He chuckled, a deep rumble that reverberated through Yao's body as well as he stiffened. "The game is even more fun now."

"And what is the game called, aru?"

"Who can scream the loudest."

"How do you play?" He knew the answer, though he hadn't expected to receive it in such an…interesting way. Ivan had bit down on his neck, drawing a small sound he was unaware humans could make from Yao's throat.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next Allies meeting was possibly more frightening than the last. For Alfred, Arthur and Francis anyway. Ivan seemed thrilled beyond belief, smiling as if he had succeeded in locking Prussia up in some deep recess of his basement, and Yao was surprisingly silent for once. The three blonde stared in quiet fear as Ivan's pleased smile grew wider when Yao had gone to yell at Alfred for eating while speaking only to stop halfway through as his voice rasped painfully.

"Dude, what happened to your voice man?" Alfred stared at Yao's neck as if it would tell him everything.

Yao blushed and shook his head, making Ivan's smile grow again.

"Yao lost the game, da!"

Alfred smashed his head to the table, yelling something about his record being broken while the rest stared at Ivan in a mixture of disbelief, anger, and, in Yao's case, loathing.

* * *

**Someone tell me if I need to fix anything with the personalities! This was my first time writing Russia and China as main characters... Kinda bad since I wanted to enter a contest for the Rouchu club I'm in on deviantart... Suggestions would be awesome!**

**Yeah, typed this up while I was sick so if you see anything messed up, tell me please...**

**And again, I love everyone that's reviewing and faving and all that fun stuff! And sorry if I don't reply to all the reviews, I only check my email in the morning and before bed now I'm so swamped with school... 29 days left for me though~! XD  
**


	4. Part 4: SpainRomano II

**This is a prequel to chapter 1~!**

* * *

Unresolved Sexual Tension to the Max!

Part 4: SpainRomano II

He didn't really understand the random urge to wear his old dress that day, but he couldn't bring himself to truly regret it. Even though, by all means, what he and Antonio had done while in it was entirely regrettable. Actually, what was regrettable is that he didn't know if he'd ever get the chance to do it again. Or, he could, it would just take far too long for his liking. But that required a little thing called honesty and Lovino seemed not to possess such a troublesome trait, since he could still not even be honest with himself. He had only just admitted to himself he may - might, probably, could possible - have feelings for Antonio that were deeper than all that crap about being brothers centuries ago and 'best friends,' as Feliks called them, now. It wasn't love, damn it! It was a really, really, _very_ deep tolerance of him. And that as all; he was fucking South Italy, he needed no love. Regardless, he had just admitted the _possibility_ to himself, he was not about to admit it to the tomato bastard, of all people. He was not Feliciano, for fuck's sake. He was terribly glad for that fact, honestly - see, he could be honest sometimes - otherwise the moment that led to his rather stunning realization may never have happened.

Though, it had all started with Feliciano…

"Lovino! I bought something from Elizabeta's place! Come and see!" Feliciano yelled happily up the stairs, dropping a bag on the floor to await his brother. "Lovi! Hurry up, ve!"

"Who the fuck said you could call me tha- What in the hell are you wearing?"

Lovino stood still at the top of the stairs, brows furrowed in agitation by what his brother had deemed appropriate clothing for a man. A long dress with far too many ruffles and lace covered him from neck to mid-calf.

"Ve? Elizabeta and Lilly made it. Isn't it the cutest dress ever?" Feliciano spun, skirts lifting to expose his - shaved - legs.

"No, it fucking well is not! The fuck are you doing wearing a dress? You're a guy, cretino." Though you couldn't tell when he was with the potato bastard. It really was no wonder they were thought of as girls for so long.

"Ve?" Feliciano glanced down at his dress sadly. "But Ludwig said he liked it. He even helped me get it off, ve! And then he - "

"Shut up now, or you'll wish you were never born." He was definitely not going to listen to his brother's sex life with the fucking German freak. He let them date out of the goodness of his heart - and far too much persuasion from Antonio - he was not going to be subjected to all the dirty details in addition to the potato stink that always lingered around Feliciano's room.

"Lovi's just jealous because big brother Antonio has been too busy to visit ve." Feliciano smiled knowingly, an image that made him want to run for Spa-_England's_ help. He certainly was not upset over the oblivious idiot. He just ran out tomatoes and Antonio had not brought anymore over is all. See, nothing about the tomato bastard…Fuck off. Feliciano skipped back out the door, chirping out something about needing to meet Ludwig and leaving his brother too scream after him. How the hell did he drive in those shoes anyway?

Not two seconds later, Lovino's mobile rang.

"What, asshole?"

"Ve, not nice Lovi! There's a present for you on the floor! Don't forget to wear it, okay? Ciao!" And the line went dead.

The fuck was wrong with his brother? Or rather, what _wasn't_ wrong with him?

Lovino stomped down the stairs, hoping the noise would relieve his anger. It didn't, it never did. And his 'present' simply made it worse.

Feliciano had brought him a dress. Not just any dress. A pink dress. A pink dress exactly like the one he wore at Antonio's before they realized that the Italies were brothers. A small slip of paper fell to the floor. Lovino picked it up, anger and blush rising with each consonant.

_Lovino,_

_We all know you love Antonio, so we made you something to help. Can you believe Antonio still had a portrait of you in this? _

_Oh! We also called the wonderful Antonio over to your place. He should be there around four, so you better be ready! We want full details later!_

_Love you!_

Here there were four drawings of heads, one resembling his brother, another resembling Elizabeta, one that could be Vash - though the bow and message itself pointed to Lily - and one for Kiku. Great, he had a group of psychopaths - or rather, three psychopaths and a girl with a psychopathic brother - trying to get him to wear a dress. Exactly what he needed in life.

…Though Antonio did enjoy dresses and 'cute' things. Maybe he could… No! No, what the hell was he thinking? Why was he even thinking about this? As if he cared about Antonio and his damn feelings. As if that bastard's smiling did anything to his stomach. It was that food Feliciano made for him that made his stomach feel so weird, damn it! Antonio couldn't make him feel like that if he tried… Not that he wanted him to try or anything, that'd be stupid. Besides, that damn moron wouldn't understand a come on even if he were in a dress and…

Oh, fuck them anyway. He would not, _would not, _wear that damn dress just to see what Antonio would do. Because he already knew; Antonio would declare him cute and then jump on him as his way of 'hugging' and then Lovino would get mad and Antonio would just smile and misinterpret his insults for declarations of love and Lovino would spend the afternoon, and most of the evening, listening to how much he resembled a tomato. And, please, kill him if he didn't enjoy every single second of it.

_Eres __luz, que puede tocar este corazon. No hay nadie mas que tu, que enciendes estrellas en mi interior, cuidado donde vayas tu, y es que nadie mas,me mira como tu. Solo tu. Eres tu._

Lovino jumped as his mobile sang the overly familiar song that signaled Antonio's call. Yes, he knew what the song meant, he just liked it, is all. It meant nothing special that it was only used for the Spaniard…

"What, asshole?" Lovino barked into the device, cutting off the incessant cooing he knew would start the second Antonio realized he'd picked up.

"I just wanted to tell you I was coming over, mi amor! Feli called and said you had a surprise for me! I bet it's new tomatoes! Please say it involves tomatoes, Lovi!" Antonio had somehow learned to fluctuate his voice between cooing and excessively happy in the same sentence.

"Che, as if I'd give you any, even if I had some. My brother lied, moron, there is no surprise. Except that you're probably the most idiotic person I know." He was not going to so this.

"Oh…" Antonio sounded disappointed…sort of. His sunny - if voices could sound like a star - tone was still there, just more mellow. It was…weird, unnatural.

"You…you can still come over…if you want…Bastardo." Alright, so he let the bastard over, big deal. He still wouldn't wear the dress. No, he refused to degrade himself like that.

"Ah, really? Gracias, mi tomatito! I'll be over very soon! And don't forget my tomatoes!"

"Wha? Bastard! I said there weren't any - " _Click._ He'd hung up. The moron had really hung up on him. The fuck was up with that? Well…no tomatoes for him then. He's just have to deal with churros…and maybe some cappuccino… But he was only making it because he wanted some too, damn it!

The door banging open several hours - a relatively short time, as far as travel from Madrid to Florence went, idiot must have taken a plane for once - caused Lovino to drop a bit of sugar and chocolate on to his shirt. Cursing, he went to yell at Antonio - because he could tell it was him already. Of course, that plan halted when a large and very soft something met the Italian's face. The fuck had just happened?

"Oi, retard, the hell is this?" Lovino received a mouthful of _something_, fabric he guessed, for his troubles and couldn't even be sure Antonio had heard him.

"Do you like it Lovi? I made it just for you! See? It even has a face just like yours! So cute!" Antonio gushed, removing the thing, which he now recognized as a pillow, from Lovino's face. It wasn't poorly made, it was just…embarrassing. The pillow was shaped like a tomato, though instead of being bare, there was a wayward stem that curled much like Lovino's curl, angry, vaguely green eyes that been sewn on as well as an upside-down 'v' for a mouth. Did he really look that…pouty?"

Still…Antonio had made it, and it was really soft…

"Hmm, I'll keep it jerk, but don't shove it in my face next time."

Next time? Would there even be a next time? This was just a radom present, right?

"No problem Lovi! Now where are my tomatoes? Boss loves his tomatoes, almost as much as he loves his Lovi!"

"One, you're not my boss, moron. And two, you get no tomatoes. I made churros instead…" Lovino's face burnt, cheeks turning bright red as Antonio smiled all the wider, leaning in to give him a hug and a kiss on one burning cheek.

"You always know what I want most, Lovi, that's why I love you." Antonio ruffled auburn hair, fingers trailing just long enough not to seem deliberate over that one curl. Lovino's blush deepened and he muttered a few choice words in Italian before stomping after the Spaniard, pressing the tomato pillow to his face.

Fucking bastard, saying he loved him so freely. Thos wasn't Alfred's place, for fuck's sake, people took things like that seriously here. And that hand… Did it have to feel so…nice? Sure, it felt the same no matter who touched it, but every time Antonio even got close to it he got this feeling of…anticipation. Is that what it was? He wanted Antonio to twirl it around his fingers, run his tongue over it - even if it was an odd thing to say about hair. And then maybe he could move his tongue to something equally as sensa… Damn it! He should not be thinking of these things with the oblivious idiot right there! Or at all, for that matter. It wasn't as if Antonio really felt anything but friendship, maybe brotherhood - was that the right word? - for him. Still…the way his eyes turned that one, small shade darker when he touched his hair… No, no. He couldn't get his hopes up like that - not that he had any. It would only lead to disappointment and pain. He didn't want it to hurt anymore. If he kept this up, he'd lose Antonio entirely. And then he'd be alone…

"Hey Lovi? Lovi~?" Antonio poked his cheek gently, startling Lovino from his reverie and alerting him to the fact that he had spaced out with his face buried in the tomato pillow. "An, I thought you had died! I was so scared!" Antonio rubbed his face against Lovino's still burning cheek.

"Wha…you…Get the f-fuck away, damn it!" No, he did not stutter. He had paused for dramatic effect…three times.

"Don't be afrain, Lovi. I won't do anything to you, even if you are adorable."

"Humph, as if I thought you were, idiota." He Hadn't just huffed like a girl either.

"Unless…Do you want me to do something?"

He was far too close now. He could pick out the darker specs in the green irises and smell the same thing that was all over the pillow - spices and the sea and sun, as of he'd slept with the pillow every night. The air smelt like Antonio and it made him want to do something that he really shouldn't want to with an idiot like him.

"Answer me, Lovi~." Damn him, damn him and that vindictive little tone of his. It managed to be commanding and pleading at once and it pulled on his mind to say yes, yes he did want the man to do something and he wanted that damn annoying mouth on his right this second or he was going to explode. He opened his mouth to say so, but, as was his usual luck, his mouth had its own plans and muttered a quick "be right back" before somehow controlling the rest of his body and running to the closet where he'd hidden the dress from Feliciano.

He knew, _just knew,_ that he was going to hate himself later, but he wanted to try it. He had not clue why, but he just had to.

He slipped off his clothes, tugging his hair back down into some semblance of neatness before pulling the pink dress over his head. He may have to kill Feliciano for this later. It wasn't that he looked bad, just the opposite. He looked…amazing. Even with the short hair and more manly features, he fit the ideal woman almost perfectly - there was the issue of cleavage, but he wasn't about to get himself breasts anytime soon. The torso of the dress hugged his less-than-feminine curves perfectly, accentuating just the right points so that he looked like less than a man in a dress and more like a very young woman who was still developing. The skirt was tastefully long, only showing skin from ankle to mid-calf - much like Feliciano's dress had. It wasn't as heavy as he remembered, flowing with the slightest movement. It still belled out at the waist, but not quite as much as the old one. As much as he hated to admit it, Feliciano and Elizabeta had done a pretty good job; fantastic, even.

With one last sigh and a quick glance in the mirror - he still couldn't believe he could look so…good in a dress - he marched out the door to what may be a very irritating fate.

Antonio had to be the most oblivious and moronic man on the face of the earth. Not only hadn't he noticed him when he got back, but the idiot was asleep, as if he was just there for a random visit and had not just prompted him to wear a damn dress. Honestly, how fucking stupid could one man be?

Lovino stared at the Spaniard sprawled over the couch in a seemingly haphazard way; seemingly being the key word. As he watched, the steady rise and fall of Antonio's chest jumped a bit, almost like a yawn. So he really was that stupid. Well, if that was how he wanted to play.

"Hmm, stupido Spagna, still falling asleep. I guess the only way to wake you up is _that way._" Lovino smirked as Antonio's entire body froze before his breathing quickened. He didn't move or make any other sign that he heard the Italian so Lovino hiked up the skirt of his dress and stepped over him, ready to jump.

Of course, that was as far as he got. Just as he was about to drop onto Antonio's torso, the Spaniard pulled his knees down, flipping them over so Lovino was on his back, skirts bunched up under his hips and riding uncomfortably high on his thighs for Antonio's proximity. The Spaniard was pinning him to the plush leather of the couch, arms caging him in on either side of his head. He stared up at him, eyes wide, as dark, forest green irises gazed back at him with something he never thought he'd see in the usually clueless Spaniard.

"Anton-" Lovino couldn't finish, his words catching in his throat as a slim, calloused finger curled around his wayward curl.

"It's mean to tease, Lovi." He Hadn't heard Antonio's voice so low, so deep, since Arthur had conquered his armada. It was frightening, in a way, but it sent his heart pounding in his chest with excitement. Finally, he could actually do something.

"Then I'll stop." He steeled himself for rejection, though sincerely hoping this idiotic stunt earned him something.

Lovino wrapped his arms around Antonio's neck, twining his fingers through the thick curls to pull him down to him. Not like he had to work all that hard. Antonio smiled, allowing Lovino to control the kiss at first, waiting patiently for the Italian to move it forward. Lovino felt as if every nerve ending in his body was hooked to a car battery. It was all he could do not to shake and he wanted more. He probed gently with his tongue, not entirely sure what he was doing at first and soon letting instinct take over and doing whatever came to mind. That was his mistake.

The second his tongue touched Antonio's lips, a veritable dam broke and there was nothing stopping the flood. Antonio's tongue plunged into his mouth, exploring every crevice and inch he could reach and wrapping around his in ways he never even knew were possible. Not that he as complaining or anything, it was hard enough to process the fact that someone as oblivious and Antonio could do something like that, and, _dear God, that,_ let along complain. He would complain too, if his mouth was not so wonderfully busy, about the growing pain in his vital regions. Something Antonio could undoubtedly feel as his hands were wandering up his thighs, under the dress and settling just below his straining erection.

Lovino moaned, jerking his hips forward, trying to gain some form of contact even if it was only cloth to skin. Antonio smirked against his lips, how he managed that Lovino didn't know, and dragged his fingers over the painful bulge slowly. Lovnio jerked again, growling as the fingers moved away. He twisted his head away from Antonio, only to have hungry lips greet his neck warmly in place of his mouth. He gasped, biting his lip to keep the noises he definitely did not feel the need to make from slipping past.

"Da-Damn it, Antonio, f-fucking do it alre-ready." Lovino growled low in his throat.

"Hmm?" Antonio lifted his head just enough to have his green eyes meet olive ones, lips still trailing over the Italian's exposed neck. "Do what already?"

Damn bastard was being a tease, trying to make him say something so embarrassing.

"What? Do this, Lovi?" He bit hard on his shoulder, soothing the bite with small kisses. Lovino grumbled angrily, trying and failing to create words. "Or was it this?" Antonio's hand ran over his still confined erection again, trailing ever-so-lightly along it. He was going to die, Antonio had to be trying to murder him, that was the only explanation for how oblivious, friendly, irritating Antonio could turn into a smirking, teasing and even more irritating version of himself.

Antonio grinned at the whimper he received as a yes, sitting back and pulling Lovino to stand in from of him.

"Wha-What are you doing?" he managed, though his voice sounded harsh, as though he's gargled with sand.

"Something." Antonio sang back, lifting the edge of Lovino's skirts. "Hold on to these, por favor."

Normally, Lovino would have protested at being told what to do by the man, but when Antonio's hand pulled down his boxers and began to actually touch him, it was all he could do to stay standing. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before, he wanted to jerk into each stroke of that hand, to scream at Antonio to move faster, but he refused to do anything.

That was, until Antonio placed his tongue just under his hand and followed its progress up to the very tip before wrapping his entire mouth around it. Lovino cried out, cutting it off quickly with a sharp bite to his lip. His cheeks burned, something Antonio surely wanted to comment on as his eyes danced with laughter, his tongue and lips still doing their best to get Lovino to the ground. He would have fallen too, when that mouth went further down, enveloping half of him in the moist heat that was driving him crazy, if not for the firm hand on his thigh.

He was going to hell, he had to be. There was no way he could actually enjoy this and not be damning himself with it. He cried out again as Antonio's hand moved with is mouth, pulling him closer to the edge with each stroke. Yes, definitely going to hell, there was no way around it. Not when he gripped the dress so tight his nails dug small holes in the fabric and he all but collapsed over Antonio after watching green, green eyes light up like the sun was shining through them as he swallowed every bit of Lovino's release.

He laid on the couch, Antonio lying next to him, an arm wrapped protectively over around his waist and his lips making their feathery way down his neck. Lovino sighed, spent and tired, burying his face in Antonio's shirt to hide his blush and falling asleep.

When he woke up, Antonio was gone, but his mobile was next to him, its screen flashing that he had a new message.

He flipped it open and read it, only to click the device shut and toss it to the other side of the couch.

Antonio's boss had called him for something important, but he was coming to dinner next week, and bringing over his paella.

* * *

**Alright, so I started a AustriaHungary gakuan Au chapter for this and somehow I ended up writing this... I have no idea how but I really like it! The next chapter will be up after Wednesday, since I have a huge presentation this week that I need to prepare for.**

**Please don't hate the sort of failed sexy stuff...I tried really hard...**

**By the way, never start to really really like your best friend, all it does is tick you off and make you write smut...  
**

**Edit: Haha! Updated this so late I forgot to give you the translation of the song Lovi's phone plays! Sorry!**

_Eres __luz, que puede tocar este corazon. No hay nadie mas que tu, que enciendes estrellas en mi interior, cuidado donde vayas tu, y es que nadie mas,me mira como tu. Solo tu. Eres tu:_** My light was lost. Until the sense of speaking. While just you listen. While just looking at you. Love begins again. You are the light... that can touch this hear. No one but you. You turn on stars within me. I'll go wherever you go. And nobody else is... looking at me like you. Only you. Its you.**

**Yeah, grabbed the translation from the video on youtube I found it on. It's called Solo tu and its sung by Maite Perroni. Look it up, it's amazing. I used it to write my RoChu chapter even though I found it on a Spramano video.  
**


	5. Part 5: PrussiaAustria

**Huzzah! I finally got a chapter up! I know it's pretty short, but I thought it was cute... And I finally got to the PrussiaAustria chapter! I only got the idea for this one because of an Artemis Fowl fic I read (because I'm in love with that series like whoa.) and Austria's global warming idea came from the new book (anyone read that yet? It's amazing! Orion has to be the most adorable thing on earth!).**

**So anyway *cough* please enjoy my wonderful fail and hopefully I'll have the next chapter up tomorrow. It's written, I just have to type it up. It's way longer and USUK - **

* * *

UST to the Max: Chapter 5 - Aristocratic Relations

Aristocrats did not scream. Nor did they beg, plead, or otherwise do anything that would draw the wrong sort of attention from others.

Which is what Roderich tried to tell himself as Gilbert's deft fingers worked their way over the bulge in his finest trousers. It took nearly all of his considerable willpower to keep his eyes from screaming in place of his lips while Vash continued his presentation as if oblivious to his former friend's trauma, though he was entirely grateful he was not privy to his current torment. Though, quite honestly, how could Gilbert do something so…_vulgar_ in the middle of a World Summit? And with Elizabeta sitting right next to him. If she were to look down… Well, he was certain he would no longer have need to worry about his 'outings' with the Prussian, because they would both be out - in more ways than one - and Elizabeta would be breathing down their necks for compensation in the form of pictures no aristocrat, nor gentleman for that matter, would ever be caught dead in.

Perhaps he was already dieing though, if the friction beneath his belt was any indication. Gods, it was delicious, pure carnal delight that threatened to overthrow his sanity and swallow him in white hot bliss.

"Ah, Roderich, it is your turn to speak now."

Oh dear…

He could practically feel Gilbert's smirk, even if he couldn't see it. The bastard probably had this planned the entire time.

"Certainly."

Aristocrats never show their weakness, he told himself, firmly fixing his eyes ahead. He refused to look anyone directly in the eye, far too nervous to see anyone's laughter.

He cleared his throat demandingly, not one to allow a slight inconvenience to deter him. "As you can see from your packets, the oceans are flooding at an ever increasing rate, due to ice caps melting and various in climate conditions. U suggest, with all of your help, of course, that we build a type of reflective foil that will be virtually undetectable and cover the glaciers so as to protect them and keep the various flora and fauna free from harm as well."

Silence greeted his plan, which a few of his best researchers had suggested he might add. Great, they thought he had taken Alfred's place. Brilliant.

"Uh…Roderich…have you checked this data?"

Ludwig was bright red and held a fist to his mouth to cough into it. Even if he noticed his…condition, which was rapidly decreasing much to his pleasure, he refused to say anything, keeping things to business as usual.

"Very thoroughly, I assure you. My best analysts went through the theory from several angles and all data came back positive."

Ludwig looked satisfied, though still flushed, and the others seemed happy enough. That is, until Gilbert raised a pale hand. Brilliant. He had hoped to move on to actually applying the idea.

"Yes, Prussia?"

Keep it formal, formal is good. If you stay formal he'll -

"Can you come sit down so I can finish jerking you off?"

Completely out you to the world.

"Excusez-moi? Prusse, you are in a relationship and not telling moi? Pourquoi, mon ami?" Francis looked almost hungry.

As did Elizabeta as she glared at Gilbert, hands reaching for something - probably her frying pan - behind her back.

"Hey, you don't share your sex life, why should I?" Gilbert replied, smug and grinning up at the still mentally stunned Austrian.

"Ah I had no idea you wanted to share stories! Shall I tell you about the time I first met darling Seychelles?" Arthur promptly shut Francis up with a well placed kick.

Just in time for Gilbert to scream in agony and Elizabeta to scream about lying about people's boyfriends. Fantastic.

All eyes were on him again, waiting for him to deny the accusations. Brilliant. Aristocrats did not crack, he reminded himself, even in the death by head trauma.

"We…have a slightly more personal relationship than prudent, yes." He tried no to catch Elizabeta's eyes, as he knew she would be crushed. He simply stood there and waited for the crushing blow to wipe out a few billion precious brain cells.

Only it never came.

Instead, laughter rang through the room.

"Jesus, I thought he'd never admit it."

"What has it been, mi amigo, two years, si?"

"Ja, good to see you finally grew a pair Roddy."

Roderich blinked, utterly confused and still braced for fatal impact. A hand reached out and touched his shoulder gently.

"Roderich, are you truly happy with Gilbert?" Elizabeta sounded small and horrifically meek next to him. The part of him that was a high-class gentleman wanted to pull her close and comfort her, tell her it was not true, but the part that had been influenced by Gilbert - what he liked to think of as his moronic side - insisted he tell the truth.

He nodded, still braced, startling himself to the point of nearly gasping. Really, he hadn't thought about his relationship with the albino before. He had simply followed his lead without question. Surely, it had been convenience at first, but now…he was sure this was the way he was supposed to be with Elizabeta. He wondered vaguely when it had all changed.

"Well then…" Elizabeta cut off his reverie quietly, finally pulling his gaze to her. "You'll just have to take lots of pictures for me then, won't you?" She smiled sweetly, reminding him of their time as a shared empire. Gott, that woman could be terrifying.

"Uh…well…" Roderich coughed into his hand, ignoring the flush working it's way into his cheeks. "You see, Elizabeta, it's just…I can't…" He couldn't think of what to say, couldn't think of a logical excuse not to send the woman picture after picture of the things Gilbert forced - because there was no way an aristocratic gentleman such as himself would agree to such shameful things - him to do.

Thankfully he didn't have to think of an excuse because the woman, who looked close to pulling out her frying pan, was suddenly distracted by the cause of the madness tearing the almost successful meeting to shreds.

"Ah Lizzie, I didn't even know you were here today." Liar, he had caught her eye right before he began his…ministrations. "I hope you aren't too put off about me stealing Roddy from you." Another lie. He loved the fact that he had gotten her back for rejecting him all those years ago. It was simply an after thought, though, not the reason for their relationship. At least, that was what he had been told.

"Of course not, Gil. You do realize, thought, that you owe me for forcing Roderich to lie to me for months."

"Oh?" Gilbert smiled the way he always did before Elizabeta hit him. "Are you interested in a threesome? I'm sure we could find some room for you as well."

Elizabeta smiled innocently, her likeness to Russia freezing even Gilbert's heart for a moment, before pulling back her arm to leave the albino in a painful heap on the floor.

"I expect one picture a week for six months."

"What! You had your chance, he's mine now!" Gilbert was getting frighteningly used to the frequent beatings.

"It's payback for the threesome comment. Plus, I just don't like you." She smiled again and flounced out of the room in a swirl of skirts.

"Well, I suppose we had best get started."

"Eh?" Roderich blinked at Gilbert curiously for several seconds before he caught on. "Gilbert, we most certainly will not get started! We are in the middle of a meeting!"

"Luddy will tell us anything we miss, if they ever stop fighting." He began to drag him to the door.

"But…but…what if someone notices?"

He was grasping at straws, but he had to do something.

"So? They already know I was jacking you under the damn table. They'll just think you're awesome for hooking up with someone as awesome as me."

They were in the hall now, the sounds of fighting muffled by the heavy doors. Gilbert's mouth attached itself to his neck happily, stealing his well thought out argument and leaving him gasping and pliable. It was simple, after that, to tear down his aristocratic mask and pull him into the nearest storage closet. Child's play, to make him fall apart beneath his hands. Easy, to make him scream so loud that the arguments in the next room came to a screeching halt.

~UST~

Francis smirked at Antonio, who seemed slightly put out when Lovino ran over to cover Feli's ears when the noises of _l'amour_ started, and winked. Antonio handed over a fifty Euro bill and ran over to help Lovino - or, rather, to torture him very slowly, as the Italian looked pained by Antonio's soft kisses.

Ah, he loved being the country of _l'amour._


	6. Part 6: USUK

**Yay! I finally got time to type this! I know it was supposed to be up Friday, but my bestest friend came over and then I started watching True Blood. I literally just finished season two and I'm so in love with it! Especially Godric, I started crying when he died.**

**Umm...anyway. I'm sorry if my humor is a little weird...I kinda wrote this in parts and yeah... I hope it still came out alright.  
**

* * *

**UST to the Max Chapter 6: Doctor Awesome to the Rescue!**

"Now, tell Doctor Awesome all about this problem."

Alfred groaned angrily. He really needed to work on not being tempted by Mattie's cooking - or promises of cooking seeing as he wasn't getting anything to eat for a while. Apparently he couldn't eat or leave until he told 'Doctor Awesome' all about his problem, whatever the hell that was. He snorted mentally. As if he would tell the evil albino anything about himself, he'd only use it for his evil schemes against justice later. He had to get out of here, and bring Mattie with him, he spent far too much time with his…friend. He was going to be corrupted! It was already happening! His innocent little brother had been the one to tie him up in the first place! He was turning into an evil doer! Alfred was a hero, he couldn't let that happen! What if he turned into another France…Alfred blanched at the thought, vowing to keep Mattie and Gilbert far apart as soon as he got out of this mess. And got a few dozen burgers.

"I don't have a damn problem, ya asshat! Now let me go! Heroes cant be tied up like this!" He pulled at the ropes binding his hands together and only received a few scratches for his troubles. He seriously needed to reconsider his brother's strength as well.

Gilbert rolled his eyes, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Oh? You have no problems? None at all?" Alfred nodded earnestly, praying that if he could just convince them that there was nothing wrong - because it was true and even if it wasn't, heroes don't get help from mortal enemies - he would be able to get free and bring Mattie to Arthur's place to hid…visit. "Then I'll just call Artie and go get beer until you remember."

Prussia rose from his armchair, giving Matthew - who was playing guard - a quick peck on the cheek before picking up the receiver. Alfred would deny the squawk of anger he'd made at the kiss later, far too preoccupied at the moment with Gilbert's pale fingers hanging tauntingly over the ring of numbers. Why did Mattie have such an old phone anyway? Keypads were just as good, he needed to get his little brother into the 21st century. Wait! That wasn't the problem! The evil albino was going to call Iggy! He couldn't be seen like this, not by him.

"Wait I'll umm…I'll tell you my new ideas for the G8!" yeah, that'll get him out of danger, his ideas were always the best. Everyone else just weren't up to his level of awesome to understand.

"Don't want them. You gotta answer some other questions, and no lying." Gilbert dropped the receiver and sat back in his chair across from the captive Alfred. Alfred nearly sighed in relief until he caught the predatory look in those eyes and wished he had let Iggy come over, he would have been able to help him… Not that he needed it, that is, it was just good to have back up when dealing with villains. Honestly how could Mattie not tell how evil Gilbert was? The guy had fricken red eyes for crying out loud!

"Al, just tell us why you were so red at the last meeting and we'll let you go." Matthew gave Gilbert a pointed look as the albino opened his mouth to complain. He'd wanted to ask all sorts of perverted questions to make Alfred's head explode…at least, that's what Alfred thought as he thanked every deity in the world that Mattie was his brother.

But the world meeting? Why did they want to know about that? It was the same as every other meeting just…hotter. As if someone had turned on the heater despite the fact that it had been over thirty-five degrees Celsius at Spain's place. Nations had yelled at one another, Germany had shut them up. England had given his presentation… Actually, now that he thought about it, it had been during England's presentation that the heater had kicked in.

Alfred told Matthew as much, asking if that was what he was talking about. Really, there was no need to tie someone up over such a silly thing as a heater. Matthew and Gilbert exchanged a knowing glare that Alfred missed entirely. His little brother was so cute! Always making a mole out of an anthill - or was it an ant out of a molehill? Did moles make hills? Moles were creepy little things too, why did they exist? Maybe he could send one to the albino's house as a prank, that could be fun. Or a snake! Snakes ate birds, right? Maybe it would eat that yellow fluff ball and then-

"Alfred!"

"What?" Alfred gazed around, seeming to just notice that Gilbert had been yelling in his face for the last five minutes.

"Mein Gott Mattie, why are we bothering with this moron? He's practically asleep here."

"Because he's my brother, Gil. And if he's with Arthur then he'll be out of our hair."

"Hey, can I get out of here now? I wanna get a burger!"

"Nope, your staying here, burger-boy. We have to get something and then we'll be back. Just sit tight, okay?" Gilbert pushed a protesting Matthew to the door, ignoring the squirming and yelling coming from the still restrained American.

"But Mattie! What if I need to use the little hero's room!"

The door slammed shut, leaving Alfred alone in the dark. Shit, now he was easy prey for ghosts. At least Mattie would be back any minute to save him… Yup, any time now… Ah, crap, now his nose itched too.

~USUK~

"And how, may I ask, do you believe you qualify as a doctor of any kind?"

Arthur sat delicately on his sofa, legs crossed properly and green eyes surveying Gilbert as he gazed questioningly into his tea cup. Honestly, he had been trying out a new potion when the man had barged in - causing him to drop all his ingredients thinking it to be Alfred breaking in again - and demanded him to explain his feelings for Alfred to 'Doctor Awesome.' Matthew was hiding, in his own way, next to the albino sipping his Earl Grey relatively happily. It really was odd that he had no problem seeing him when he was with the Prussian. He had thought that the result would be similar to when he was with Alfred, his flamboyance making Matthew invisible, but Gilbert caused him to practically shine. But Matthew wasn't the point at the moment, Gilbert, or rather, Doctor Awesome, was.

"Because I'm awesome and I can do what I want, end of explanation." Gilbert replyed smugly, setting his cup down with a slight frown. Arthur snorted, covering it in his tea. Some people had no taste.

"That does not make you a doctor, Gilbert."

"Oh be quiet Artie. We're here to help ya!" He flashed a grin Arthur thought he meant to be endearing, but it only made him want to cry in pain.

"With what, exactly?" He really didn't need this today. He needed to finish that lo-repelling potion. For Sealand…yes, that had been what he was doing…

"You getting into our favourite little hero's boxers, that's what."

Arthur spit out his tea. Oh, great, there went that sweater vest. It was new too.

"I do not want to get in his pants! He's a bloody git that needs to be taught a few manners and that is all."

He refused to acknowledge the fact that his face felt as hot as his tea at the moment. Gilbert's grin widened, as did Arthur's eyes as Matthew moved just a slight inch away from the albino. Something was definitely going on besides Gilbert being annoying - the kind of something that quite frankly scared the living shit out of him.

Matthew eyed Gilbert warily, apparently knowing what came after the new - and slightly terrifying - grin his boyfriend was sporting. He placed his cup casually, though the tensing of his muscles made it obvious he was ready to spring. Arthur just didn't know if it was on himself or Gilbert. "Arthur, I'm very sorry to intrude like this, but Alfred has been bothering me a lot lately and I believe you are the reason why."

"I am the reason behind Alfred's behaviour?" Really, and he had thought Matthew to be the better of the North American colonies - apart from his choice in companions, which he blamed entirely on Francis - to blame his once-father figure for his moronic brother's behaviour. He hadn't even spoken to the boy since his birthday at least a month earlier. Though there was the incident at the recent world meeting…

"Yes, Artie, it's your fault Mr. Hero keeps barging in just when things are getting good. All he does is complain about…"

Arthur was lost. Lost in the liquid blue that had starred at him so…longingly across the meeting room table as he gave his presentation that he felt his face flush and he'd skipped more than one paragraph and had to backtrack nearly an entire page. He shivered despite the warmth of his tea, still spreading through his body. Or was that the flush rising in his cheeks again? Perhaps he was getting a cold again, not that it would be surprising.

How had Alfred learnt to make that expression? Surely he hadn't just picked it up - though with the way some of his people looked at him when he went out he wouldn't be surprised if he had just picked it up some where - perhaps he had been spending too much time with Francis? Though maybe then it would be more lust than innocent longing. Wherever he had learnt to look at someone like that, Arthur sincerely wished to be on the receiving end of it again. The way the clear blue of his eyes had veritably blazed as he looked up at him as if he were the single most amazing person ever to live. Emphasis on the person. It had felt amazing, extraordinary, to be looked at as a human being and not a nation, even if it was by a fellow nation. Though that could be what made it feel so amazing in the first place.

Could he honestly say whether or not he loved Alfred? No, not at all. But he was more than willing to try something, screw the awkwardness of having raised the boy, it didn't exist in their society anyway.

"…and so you should know that Mattie and I are heading upstairs to fuck right now. Also, I pissed in your tea while you weren't looking." Gilbert was still talking, Matthew looking more and more distraught by the second.

"Oi! Shut up, ya git. You're scaring Matthew. Now," he turned from where Gilbert was snickering like a child, to Matthew who looked like the poster child for forced calm, "what exactly would you like me to do?"

"Oh…umm…It's simple, really. You just have to uh…get Al to confess that he actually feels something for you."

Arthur raised a thick eyebrow at him.

"Alright, so it's simple in theory. Big deal. You have those spell books, right? You have to have a spell in there for these kinds of things. You don't even need to try hard, we've already got the idiot tired up -"

"You tied him up?" Arthur interrupted, green eyes flicking between the pair in front of him.

"Of course, the moron wouldn't shut the hell up and how else are we going to keep him still?"

Arthur shrugged, it had it's fine points.

"So, as I was saying. You should whip up a super awesome spell that can get the moron to spill all his secrets."

"Well…there was one I saw when looking for the lo-sleeping draught that could possibly work… But I think there was a probability of brain damage so perhaps we do things the old fashioned way, yeah?"

"So boring Artie!" Gilbert pouted. "You're just like a stuffy old man."

"Oh? But when I said old fashioned, I meant Spain's Armada old."

Matthew cringed as the older countries grinned in understanding.

~USUK~

Alfred had managed to make some progress with his escape plan. He had gone from sitting up right, to lying on his side while still being tied to the chair. The perfect position for escape if he could simply get his legs free. Or had that been sitting up? He couldn't remember anymore, though he had just watched a spy movie last night. Then again he had been fantasizing about Iggy as a spy at the time…

Iggy would make a great spy. Everyone trusted those accents, plus when he got caught he could just pirate his way out like in the stories he used to tell him before bed after he'd complained about Francis telling similar ones to Mattie. And he looked really good in a suit, his eyes just popped out at you when he wore black.

The door knob jiggled slightly, the small noise nearly deafening in the silent house. Finally, Mattie was back to let him out. He still had to use the bathroom and lying on his side was not helping.

"Mattie! Let me out! I need to take a wizz!"

No one answered. The door did slam open, but there was no noise to follow it.

"M-Mattie? Y-You there?"

Silence.

Alfred started to tremble, wishing he had kept the chair upright so he could actually see the door. All he could see was the floor and the damn ceiling from here.

Something scrapped across the floor in the next room, drawing a yelp from his throat. Maybe it was just that polar bear Mattie kept around. He hadn't brought it with him before, right? Yeah, that was what it! Because if it wasn't a polar bear he would have to think it was…ghosts.

No! no, no, no! Mattie's house was not haunted by ghosts. That was just stupid.

Another scrape across the floor.

Shit, it was getting closer. But… maybe, if it was the polar bear, it would help him get out of this damn chair and he could call Iggy for help. Yeah, great plan, Al, great plan. Now just learn to speak polar bear.

The scrapping got closer, sounding distinctly metal now.

Oh gods, it was a ghost with a sword. He was going to die and he had to pee and he was stuck to a damn chair!

"Mattie, you can stop joking now! I'll tell you anything! Just make the ghost go away!"

Dammit! Why wasn't Mattie helping him? It was all that stupid albino's-

CRASH

Oh fuck it all! They could read his damn mind too! And they were on Gilbert's side!

His chair suddenly righted itself, jerking him along like a doll. Alfred screamed, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the ghost as he died. He could think of Iggy, then maybe the telepathic ghost would see that he loved someone and wouldn't kill him.

They were breathing on his neck - did ghosts even breath? - making him shiver and strain at his ropes even more. Why wasn't thinking about Arthur working? Didn't these things have hearts? Maybe…maybe if he said it out loud?

"M…Mister Ghost?" He refused to acknowledge how high his voice was.

"Yesssssssss?" It spoke quietly in his ear, it's icy breath sliding over his ear and sending shivers down his spine.

"You… you arent going to kill a guy in l-love, are you?"

It moved, from his back to his front. Cold fingers trailed over his jaw and across his lips. It smelt just like Earl Grey tea and burnt scones. So it was an English ghost then? That would explain the slight accent he had heard when it hissed.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. It depends whom you happen to love."

The ghost moved again to straddle his lap and speak in his ears again. Alfred smirked and answered the spirit's question.

"I love a grumpy Brit who smells like tea and scones and can't cook for shit."

He felt the ghost go still then relax slightly to nip his ear.

"Perhaps I won't kill you then, if you love this no doubt refined gentleman so."

"No, I think you can kill me. I'm sure to die waiting for him to notice anyway, why live through it? He's far too dense for him to figure anything out on his own."

"Surely you're wrong. Anyone who raised you must be the epitome of intelligence. If anyone is dense, it is yourself."

He could feel the spirit's lips on his jaw now and smirked even more, still keeping his eyes shut.

"No, I'm plenty smart. Smart enough to do this."

"What?"

Alfred angled his head just right, or so he thought, and leaned forward.

Only to smack into Arthur's head.

"Ow. Iggy, why did you move? That was supposed to be super cool!" Alfred opened his eyes to pout at Arthur.

"You git! You knew it was me the whole bloody time!" Arthur rubbed his forehead, glaring at his former charge's smiling face.

"Of course not. I only know 'cause you smell like burnt scones. Plus, ghosts can't sit on people Iggy, even if it is really sexy."

Arthur blushed fiercely, moving to get off Alfred's lap. "Idiot. I should leave you tied here."

"But you won't. You love me too much to let me waste away in Mattie's living room."

"Certainly not. You are the only one in love here. Besides, Gilbert would have tons of fun with you here. He could hang his coat on you."

"Hey! I'm not a coat rack!"

"He'd have to duck tape you're mouth shut first, of course…"

"Or you could just kiss me." The hopeful lilt to Alfred's voice caused Arthur's heart to stop for a second. Not that it wasn't a fine idea just…embarrassing.

"Shut up, prat. I'll untie you only if you promise to leave Matthew and Gilbert alone."

"But…But Iggy! He's an evil albino! He's going to corrupt Mattie and bring him over to the dark side!"

"Then I guess you stay here and get to go on a date with the frog tomorrow night."

Alfred faltered.

"You…you wouldn't."

"Dammit, Iggy!" He grit his teeth. How could Iggy do this to him? "Fine, I'll leave the evil spawn of satan to destroy my brother's innocence."

"Excellent."

Arthur cut the ropes holding him to the chair, letting him fall face first to the floor.

"But if he turns evil, it's because of you, old man."

Arthur's eye twitched. "I'll show you old, bloody obstinate prat."

Alfred stuck out his tongue childishly and ran from the house.

"Hurry up so I can eat, Iggy! I'll even buy you a burger!"

Arthur shook his head and followed.

~USUK~

"Finally!" Gilbert threw himself on the couch exasperatedly, as if he'd actually done anything.

Matthew snorted and laid himself down next to him.

"Gil, you do realize we're alone right now, don't you?"

"Eh?"

Matthew pulled at a few buttons on the Prussian's shirt to prove his point.

Gilbert was up and carrying Matthew up to the bed as fast as he could before Alfred could come back and interrupt.

* * *

**I really love writing Alfred. He's adorable. **


	7. Part 7: SwizerlandAustria

**Unresolved Sexual Tension to the Max: Part seven**

**Held a Gunpoint**

Blonde hair split over the pale cotton of the pillow like a crown, drawing a certain Austrian's eyes as he tried to recall exactly how he had gotten in this situation.

He had not been intoxicated or asleep during the party, because any honest aristocrat would never allow himself to be seen in such a dishonorable state; no, he had been entirely cognizant throughout the poor excuse for a party. Alfred needed to listen to Arthur more when planning their engagement party. Hopefully their reception, and the wedding itself for that matter, did not turn out quite so…uncivilized.

Really, Gilbert had been all over someone who he could not remember ever being at a single World Summit - probably some poor human he had grabbed off the street - acting as if he were trying to replace Peter as the youngest nation present. Antonio had been slightly better, restraining his attentions to Lovino alone regardless of the Italian's blunt comments against such treatment. Ludwig had taken Feliciano home soon after the announcement of engagement had been made, claiming Feliciano to be far too drunk to take himself home. The boy had not seemed quite drunk, but Ludwig probably had his reasons, which were none of his business nor did he want them to be.

By far, though, the worst had been Francis. He had stolen an outfit - from Arthur or Kiku he could not remember, though it looked familiar - and paraded around calling himself cupid. He had thrown random people together and forced them onto the dance floor. The best couple had to have been Toris and Felix, who had been so happy to be together they had left soon after, much to Ivan's dismay. Of course, Francis could not stand to see his 'cher ami, Roddy' being alone while Elizaveta chatted with Kiku. He had all but thrown Roderich onto the floor where he fell against…ah. So that was how they had gotten in this position.

Vash let out a quiet moan in his sleep, hands searching for the body they knew to be there. Roderich allowed himself to be pulled against the too familiar curves of the Swiss's body, reveling in the warmth it warmth. He felt himself relax automatically in his hold, blushing furiously when he realized exactly how much Vash had seen of him that night. No one had ever…he had never…he could not even think about what they had done. It was far too shameful. It had been worse than the Austrian Succession, this… he did not know what this was, but it most certainly was not a good thing. Or, at least, it would not be a good thing in the morning.

Vash tangled theit bodies together more intimately, lying his head against Roderich's chest. With a resigned sigh, Roderich wrapped his arms around Vash and allowed himself to savor the few moments of peace he was allotted. Surely, though, Vash would not be too angry in the morning.

_~UST~UST~UST~UST~UST~_

Roderich woke not to the warmth of the man he had fallen asleep beside, but the cold muzzle of a shotgun pressed to his face. Well, he could not say that he had not been expecting this. He could have been allowed to dress first, at the very least.

"Explain yourself. Now."

Ah, perfect temperament for someone who had confessed to a rather deep infatuation the night before. Though perhaps he had read the situation wrong. They were rather lost in the moment when they had spoken - through soft pants in each other's ear and teasing nips on any bit of flesh within reach. Perhaps he regretted their night together. The way he should, _had_, regretted it, but seeing Vash's eyes flash in fury and a glimpse of something he remembered from when they were much younger changed his opinion entirely. He had not seen that flicker of silent adoration cross the Swiss' features in centuries. At least, not directed at him. He showed a different kind to Lily, but this… Roderich knew he would never regret causing Vash to feel such a thing for him as long as he lived. As shameful as it had been to achieve it.

"Do I really need to explain this? You surely are not unfamiliar with the situation." He turned his head slightly from the gun so it no longer pressed against his cheek. "I doubt any one of us is not accustomed to waking up with someone they do not remember falling asleep with. Though I'm sure you remember clearly what happened, neither of us were intoxicated."

Roderich watched the emotions flit across Vash's features silently, waiting for the right time to make his move. It was obvious Vash was in some state of shock at finding another man in his bed. He had been speaking generally and knew that Vash's neutrality - or perhaps it was the guns - and Lily's residence at his house had long kept him from what he was going through now. It had most certainly been a while since he had experienced anything like last night if the bruises he could already feel spouting on his body were any indication. Though he really could not complain at the feeling of sated bliss after they had finally finished.

By the time confusion reached Vash's eyes for the third time Reoderich had had enough waiting and took advantage of his inattention. He sat up and reached out, grabbing the gun and using it to pull Vash down for a slow kiss. He felt Vash stiffen for a moment and was glad he still held on to the barrel of the gun, but he quickly relaxed against the Austrian. Roderich pulled back carefully, waiting for the cold metal of the gun to press against his cheek again. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see his imminent death coming.

But, Vash yet again surprised him. There was a loud bang, presumably the gun being thrown against a piece of furniture - thank God the safety was on - and suddenly he was pushed back against the pillows by the warmth of a body.

Ah, yes. He regretted nothing, so long as it allowed him to keep Vash near him.

"Brother, would you and Mr. Roderich like waffles for breakfast or would you rather sleep late?"

Lily's quiet voice came from the doorway, probably alerted by the gun hitting what Roderich now saw was the dresser. She did not seem at all surprised by seeing her brother in bed with Roderich. In fact, she looked as if she had been waiting for something like this to happen for quite some time. He really would have to monitor her visits with Elizaveta for now on.

"I believe we shall be waiting for lunch, Lily. Thank you for the offer though." Roderich answered calmly while Vash was busy floundering around for something to say to his innocent, at least they thought she was innocent, sister.

"I'll go out and get the ingredients for fondue and torte then. Ms. Elizaveta would also like me to tell you that she let me spend the night with her and is willing to keep me as long as you like. She asked for the proper payment too, Brother. She said Mr. Roderich would know what she meant." She turned to leave, clicking the lock in place as she did so. "Oh, and I'm very glad you and Brother patched things up. Now we can have lunch together all the time." She smiled sweetly and left, closing the door behind her.

The awkward silence was only broken when Vash asked, blushing furiously and causing Roderich's headache to lessen just slightly. "What did she mean by 'proper payment.'"

Perhaps he could hide here until Elizaveta came to kill him, or Antonio finally managed to get Lovino to say yes to a date and distracted her, as he would surely die before he gave up a single picture to the woman. Vash did have plenty of guns though…

* * *

**Oh my goodness, is this an update? Yup it is! I know it's been way too long since I updated this and I actually was working on a SuFin chapter but my inspiration flew out the window somehow. Along with my inspiration for everything it seems. But, after seeing Tangled (which is way cute and definitely worth a few bucks to see in theaters), I could actually write something worht reading! Though I don't particularly like the ending... Either way! Seriously, if anyone saw Tangled and didn't think about Hungary the entire time...I just don't know. So many frying pans! XD**

**Umm...And as for the really kinda awkward, at least to me, way this is written...I wanted to write it the way Austria talks in my head canon since I don't really write much with him. To me, he seems the kind of guy to use proper English with no wouldn't/couldn't/shouldn't type words. But that's just the way I see him. Apparently I also see him as a strangely sentimental person. *shrugs* I like him like that though, it's cuter. **

**I'm also gonna shamelessly promote my deviantart, I think the link is in my profile. I just posted a bunch of pics of my (fail) fem!Romano cosplay. There's even a comic with me killing a few of my ridiculous amount of plushies! Including France :D So yeah... Long author's note is long?  
**


	8. Part 8: FranceEngland

**UST to the Max **

**Part Eight: Into the Sunrise**

"Alright, is everyone clear on the plan?" Alfred glanced around at the group gathered in front of the tree. Most were chattering excitedly with one another, while others were staring up at the tall evergreen as if it were about to kill them.

Namely, Arthur.

He was staring at the tree in a daze, eyes unfocused and perhaps a little misty. Not because he was upset. Not at all. He was just… He had a leaf in his eye. That was all… and maybe a bit of nostalgia for the blond hair and blue eyes that had looked at him so kindly in front of a similar tree so many years ago.

"Okay, since I thought of the idea I get to go first." Alfred's voice snapped Arthur out of his daze long enough to watch as the American placed a small ornament on the tree. He gazed studiously at the vial for a moment, as if it held the answers to all of life's problems, before turning and allowing the mob of other countries past.

They all seemed so happy, glad to put their deepest wish on the tree in the hopes it would be granted. Arthur could already tell what half of them would say.

Feliciano would wish for pasta. Perhaps Ludwig to be happier. Or some other ultimately inconsequential item.

Lovino would wish for Ludwig's death. And Antonio to gain a brain cell or two.

Antonio would wish for Lovino, though he already had him.

Natalia would wish for her brother.

Ivan would wish for the world to be his.

Ludwig would wish for Feliciano to be less useless.

Everyone was predictable. Easy. Obvious. Every one of them would wish for someone else. Because that was the one thing they valued most, whether they admitted it or not. Each other.

Arthur snorted. As if that was true.

Arthur watched as the others chatted and left, leaving him alone in front of the tree.

"Cher Angleterre, you wouldn't be getting cold feet, would you?"

Apparently he wasn't alone after all. Of course he would be stuck with the one person he wanted to see the least.

"No, Frog, I wouldn't. I was just…thinking." Technically it wasn't a lie. Not that he cared if he lied to that bastard, it was just too troublesome.

"Ah, I see."

What it was Francis saw, he didn't know. All he wanted was to get his ornament up and get home to be left alone until this whole horrid season was over.

Of course he wouldn't get that, now would he.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours?"

Arthur blinked at him, not really seeing Francis. His mind replaced him with a younger, more innocent person. One who had asked the same question of him so long ago now that he was sure the tree they had stood before was long since dead.

Just as last time, he gripped his vial close to his chest and shook his head in the negative. He didn't need to see what trivial thing Francis wanted. And he certainly didn't want Francis to see his.

Really, it had been a spur of the moment idea. Born of nostalgia and several things he did not want to think about in present company. Or any company, for that matter. The only reason he had written it at all was because no one would see it. He could keep it a secret.

"Well, I'll allow you to see mine anyway, oui?"

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but Francis was already taking the small roll of paper from its intricately carved vial.

"Je souhaite pour l'Angleterre de devenir mon ami une fois de plus."

Francis grinned at him, rolling the paper up and hanging it on the tree while Arthur was busy trying to figure out what exactly he had just been told.

"Perhaps we shall both get out wish, oui, Angleterre." He grinned once more, giving Arthur a small peck on each cheek and his forehead.

Arthur continued to stare up at the tree for a long time. The street lights had all gone out and the sun was beginning to shine over the horizon by the time he allowed his feet to carry him up the steps to place his plain vial next to the ornate one that contained the wish so like his.

I wish I could be friends with France again." He whispered to the winter air, a small smile curving the edges of his lips up at the corners. It was a far cry from the smile he had shown that blond boy so long ago, but at least it was a start toward something entirely different.

Perhaps they really could get their wishes this year.

Two vials clanked together as Arthur disappeared into the sunrise.

* * *

**Clearly I'm feeling symbolic today. But this came out so much better than I thought it would when I first had the idea. Actually, this is my favorite chapter, even if it isn't my favorite pairing. Also, this is my Christmas/New Years story, since it has the ornaments (entirely stolen from a part in the House of Night series) and the resolutions (sort of...). Honestly, I can't explain this...**

**In more awesome news, I finally got the stuff for my Prussia cosplay and I can go to Megacon this year! So tell me if you're going to the one in Orlando in March so I can say hi to you! And thank you for putting up with my insane stories and updates (though thank you even if I can't see you, I know I'm kind of sporadic...).  
**


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